Thursday, May 10, 2007


Life has been relatively uneventful since Tuesday's excitement, and I, for one, am grateful for that. Though I realize it makes for less entertaining blogging, there's something to be said for the quiet life.

Here are a few freshly-minted Tom Swifties to keep things humming along:

  • "That's definitely a thigh bone", opined Tom ephemerally.
  • "Miss Buchanan appears to be missing", said Tom lackadaisically.
  • "I like to ride in a horse-drawn carriage", said Tom sulkily.
  • "Grab that Irishman!", yelled Tom seismically.
  • "Tonight's special is Chilean seabass", said Tom officiously.
  • "That man over there has really been pigging out at the all-you-can-eat buffet", said Tom effulgently.
  • "Dennis really bores me", said Tom indulgently.
  • "Need anything shredded?", asked Tom fawningly.
  • "Like some paprika with that?", asked Tom ghoulishly.
  • "I've got a little list", said Tom rhapsodically.
  • "What rain?" enquired Tom plainly.
  • "The Irishman is dead", said Tom endemically.
  • "I used to command a battalion of German insects", said Tom exuberantly.
  • "A woodland nymph is dead", said Tom, with a deadpan expression.

And here are some new titles from our favorite "change one letter" series -

Tourney of the Magi:

Jousting for gold, frankincense and myrrh

Mulder on the Orient Express

Lost X-files episode: guest-writer Agatha Christie (and just what was behind her own mysterious disappearance anyway?)

Gödel, Escher, ach!

These damned Teutonic names are a bitch to pronounce.

Harry Potter and the Giblet of Fire

Young wizard is laid low by appendicitis.

A broom of one's own

The truth behind the Bloomsbury coven

A Shropshire LAN

Internet usage in Shrewsbury.

Males of the Alhambra Washington Irving's homoerotic tribute to the jewels of Granada.

Ales of the Alhambra A pub-crawl through Granada

Wales of the Alhambra Stunning new expose traces Prince Charles's conception back to a back-of-the-limousine fling between Elizabeth and a Spanish prizefighter from Granada during HRH's tour of the Alhambra. At last, the ears are explained.

"Bleak Mouse" Stuart Little undergoes an existential crisis.

"Bleak Louse" 'Why did Heathcliff have to be so cheerless all the time and such a bastard, to boot?', wondered Cathy.

"Bleak Horse" Seabiscuit just wasn't himself after that silly croquet accident mused Toby.

"Leak House" Why they just couldn't call it a WC like the frogs did was something that Mr Fields could never understand.

"Charlotte's Wed!" Hubby is a bit of a pig, though.

"The Merry Hives of Windsor" Royal family down on its luck turns to beekeeping. We recommend the royal jelly.

"The Mercy Wives of Windsor" Camilla lay back on the bed, opened her legs as the jug-eared buffoon straddled her, muttering into her ear "I want to be your Tampax, dahling" and thought of the empire.

The plain people of Ireland: Here, here! That last one's a bit dicey, isn't it? We thought this was a family blog.

The management: That's a bit surprising, given the recent emphasis on strumpets, wouldn't you say?

The plain people of Ireland: But some of them other ones are very clever indeed. But what's that one about "Tom said, fawningly"? What's that getting at?

The management: At the risk of dating myself - Iran-Contra, Oliver North, Fawn Hall?

The plain people of Ireland: Ah yes, of course. She was a good-looking piece of fluff, wasn't she? What's it the yanks call it - eye-candy, is that the word?

The management: I'm afraid it is. (groan)

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